Hunters Reborn
by Draconocturna
Summary: A new menace rises from the ashes of the old.
1. Chapter 1

_Ahem... Janeille, Renault, Calandra, Leonard, Jeremy, and Taylor are mine, everyone else belongs to their respective owners. _

_...We now return you to the scheduled story..._

* * *

It was just another night at Soaked Felt, the local bar come pool hall. The crack of breaks being made and balls falling into pockets blended with the shouts of frustration as well as the rock music blasting from the juke. Janeille squeezed the side button on her watch and peered through the cigarette-produced haze at the illuminated time once more. Seeing that it was nine forty-five, she decided that fashionably late was thirty minutes ago. Why hadn't he showed up yet? 

"Come on Ren, what the hell's keeping you?" She took another sip of beer and tried to study the balls on the pool table. She had been blindly lining up shots that would ultimately drag the cue ball into the pocket right behind them, but she was beyond caring anymore. The fact that she kept feeling an impending sense of doom more strongly by the minute might very well be the cause of her horrid playing.

"You need a tutor, babe?" A heavyset man called to her from the table on her right. "I'd be happy to give you a few lessons." His offer seemed alcohol induced and rang with a lurid sexual quality that seared her nerves raw.

She looked over and smiled a smile that she hoped that he would not perceive as coquettish and responded, "No thanks doll, I'm just passin' time waitin' on a friend of mine." The man didn't seem at all taken aback by her answer and began to walk over to her. "Here we go again…" She thought and hoped that the confrontation would not end in violence but she knew it was in vain. His type only understood brutality and sexuality when intoxicated. He stumbled slightly and grabbed a hold of the table for support. "Oh yeah, this one's a prince." She whispered to no one in particular.

He smelled of too much aftershave, sweat, and even more beer simultaneously. Why his buddies hadn't tried to get him home was a mystery to her. Stealing another glance at the table he had come from, she realized that they were as drunk as he was.

"Figures…" She mumbled.

"You say something babe?" Heavyset asked thickly as he tried to straighten himself up a little. His bloodshot brown eyes met Janeille's crystal clear green ones with a lust that turned her stomach.

"No, nothing at all." Janeille said as she tried to put a little distance between them. His six-two, nearly three hundred pound frame loomed over her five-seven, on sixty five one as he edged closer to her.

"Doesn't look like your friend's gonna show up, how about hanging out with me and MY friends for the night?"

"It's not really high on my list of thing to do tonight." She said with a toss of her deep chocolate tresses. "As a matter of fact, it didn't make the list at all."

Heavyset stuck out his chest and scowled menacingly. "You getting' brassy with me chick?" He sneered.

"Well since you seem to be the only one talking to me, yeah, I would say so. Brassy is an interesting word choice by the by." She turned to walk away, but she also prepared to defend herself against whatever Heavyset was about to try. As if on cue, she felt his hand on her right shoulder. Janeille ducked and spun out of his grasp before he could clamp down well enough to hold her in place. As she turned, she brought her elbow around and caught him in the back to knock him off balance. He hit the table with a tiny thud and the balls rolled a short distance in all directions. "Time to get out of here before this gets worse." Janeille thought and headed to the bar to pay her tab.

"I ain't done with you bitch; get back here." Heavyset barked after her as he sluggishly attempted to raise himself.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole!" She spat in retort.

She dropped a twenty in front of Dominick, the bartender-owner and drummed her slender fingers on the bar as she waited for her change.

He handed her back three fives and two ones. "Here he comes, Neille." He warned.

"I know." She sighed. Feeling the gaze of every pair of eyes in the pool hall and hating it, Janeille considered her options. If she was careful, she could just knock him unconscious and call it a night. If she wasn't, she would end up having to explain to the cops why she was wearing Heavyset's blood on her knuckles. Since she didn't feel like there was time to hang out at the local precinct, Janeille decided to go with option one. "Dom, you probably should call an ambulance."

"I'm already on it." He said, phone in hand.

Once more feeling Heavyset close in on her, she whirled around to face him and without thinking cold cocked him with a hard right. His head slammed backward from the force of the blow, and he slumped to the floor in a heap, moving no more. Back at their table, his friends were finding his ill fortune riotous.

"Here," Dominick said calmly and handed her a baggie full of ice. "Sorry that you have to deal with shits like him." She took it gratefully and applied it to her soon to be swollen hand.

"No,_ I'm_ sorry Dom. I always seem to have to leave this way." She dropped the change that Dominick had given her into the tip jar on his left. "Think of it as a gratuity for putting up with me and not having my ass hauled out of here in cuffs biweekly."

He shook his head and laughed. The crow's feet that appeared at the corners of his hazel eyes, wrinkling the tiny star tattooed next to the right one, only served to make him look younger than his forty-seven years. "You had better make tracks before the paramedics get here, kitten. I'm not calling the cops, but it isn't guaranteed that they won't." He said as he returned to wiping down the bar. She nodded agreeably and exited the pool hall.

As soon as the night air hit her, the sense of urgency slammed into Janeille again. It whispered savagely to her mind to hurry. Behind the wheel of her SUV, she let her instincts take over and drove off with much tire squealing. As the scenery breezing by her increased in familiarity, she realized that she was heading for Ren's apartment.

"What's going on?" She asked the dash. It offered no response.

* * *

Renault Pressgrue looked at the antique grandfather clock before the exposed brick northern wall of his loft apartment. It began to chime the half hour with its somber bell. "Late again, Ren," He chided himself. "Janeille is surely going to go ballistic _this_ time." But he wasn't entirely serious. Janeille Calandra MacLeod did indeed have a vicious temper, but she reined it in as much as she could around friends. He smiled to himself. "Listen to me, going on like some giddy school boy going out with the new girl. That aside, I am truly glad to be counted among those you've chosen as friends, my dear." 

He went into the bathroom and studied his reflection in the mirror. He had passed for a twenty-something for nearly three centuries. His steel gray eyes discovered a lock of his dark brown hair had fallen out of place. He opened the drawer and retrieved a small tub hair wax. "Not that I'd refuse her if she wanted to be_ more_ than friends." He said as he twisted off the cap. After returning the renegade lock to its spiked position, Renault flicked off the light and went in search of his jacket. He picked it up and was about to slide into it when he heard a forceful knock on the side door.

Frowning at the intrusion, he decided he was late enough already and ignored it as he made his way to the elevator that would take him to the parking garage. A few more knocks ensued as he reached for the button that would summon the apartment's alternate means of exit, then the side door imploded loudly and five nondescript men burst in and trained their weapons on him.

"What the…" He shouted as he turned in the direction of the men. A sixth man now entered slowly behind the first five, bearing a fire axe that he had apparently taken from the wall in the stairwell. He was a bit shorter that Renault's six feet, though not my much, with closely cropped brown hair that was beginning to go noticeably gray and blue eyes that simmered with a hatred that would have had the power to chill Ren's soul if he were a few centuries younger. "He must be the leader of this band of interlopers." Renault decided internally as he watched the man turn the axe over in his hands. He swallowed dryly and silently willed the elevator to hurry its ascent.

"Good evening, Pressgrue. Well perhaps not such a good evening, as it will be your last." His voice gave away his age more readily than his hair did, for although Andrew Taylor was barely out of his thirties, you would mistake him for much older if you were just going on appearance alone.

"Who the hell are you and what business do you have here?" Renault asked heatedly.

Taylor shrugged coolly. "I thought it was obvious. We are here to rid the world of your stain."

"Rid the world of my stain?" Was the man crazy?

"Yes. You and your kind are an abomination before man, a stain on the fabric of humanity, a stain which we will be cleansed of."

His kind…Renault made the connection then. Immortals… these men meant to destroy immortals. Suddenly the axe appeared even more menacing to him, and he backed toward the elevator. He felt no relief as the door pressed into his back and bounced to a stop lightly as it arrived finally. His immediate priority was to try to make it out of this hellacious situation with his head in tact. He regarded the gunmen with a mixture of fear and irritation. Sure he could take a few bullets; and probably get quite far before he 'died' of blood loss, but he knew that Taylor and his men would be on his ass. Maybe they had men waiting on him to get out at the garage. The thought sickened him more and he found himself identifying with a doomed rabbit.

"Well if this is how it's going to end for me, then I at least want to _attempt_ to get out of here." He thought grimly. He turned to throw open the elevator gate and heard the soft phut, phut of silenced weapons milliseconds before he felt the searing pain of bullets piercing flesh, shattering bone, and destroying organ tissue. He slid to the floor fluidly gasping for breath and trying to will his body up again.

Taylor moved over to the 'dying' Renault and peered down at his body. Was he going to be able to do this? He was not a killer. His heart beat at his chest like a caged wild bear and his thoughts ran in all directions. This would be the first immortal to be eliminated since the murder of his mentor, James Horton.

He saw the face of his five-year-old daughter Kayla, her small, perfect teeth gleaming in a smile, her golden curls backlit by the sun. Yes, he would do this for her and for future generations of humanity. Those humans who were born normal... those who would most likely never live past ninety something years, give or take a few. Coming back out of his thoughts, his heart slowed and he met Renault's defiant gaze more calmly. He raised the axe above his head and prepared to bring it down right between the wounded man's chin and shoulders. "Man… ha." He sneered and swung the axe home.

Renault closed his eyes and felt the blade touch his skin momentarily, and then darkness took him forever.

There was a sickening thump as it struck the concrete floor, sending a hard vibration through Taylor's hands, arms, and shoulders. He slid the axe free and dragged it across the floor, switching it from one side to the other as he shook his arms out. He felt surprisingly buoyant now that the task was completed. In fact, he felt like he could keep this up all night if he wanted to. Unfortunately, there were other preparations to make.

"Gentlemen, that's one down and so many hundreds to go. Let's move out." He commented as he wiped the axe clean on a towel from the kitchen. He then followed his team out of the ruined side door. The Hunters were back in the forest. Horton would be proud.

* * *

_Author's Note: I appreciate the fact that people actually are reading this, however I'd like some reviews too! If you like it, say so...if not, well you can say so too. The flames will keep my toes warm. Thanks, D-N_


	2. Chapter 2

Janeille pulled up to the black and yellow bar preventing her entrance to the parking garage. A square metal box on a metal arm reached over to the driver's side of her vehicle. She lowered her window and opened its cover. Inside there were call buttons for the six lofts in the building as well as a numbered keypad. The buttons were for visitor use. When depressed the buzzed their respective apartments and alerted the tenants to their presence. The keypad was for tenant use. Each apartment had a pass code that allowed them access to the garage. Janeille pressed the top button and waited to hear Ren's voice. When she did not, she pressed it three more times and cursed aloud. She stared at the keypad beside the buttons. What was the code again? She closed here eyes and took five slow deep breaths. Numbers floated about in her mind's eye. Account numbers, social security numbers, phone numbers, license numbers, and many others.

None of them was what she needed. Suddenly, it struck her. Renault was deeply sentimental about his centuries departed parents, so his pass code must have something to do with them. Janeille tried first a combination of the birthdays of Ren's parents. When that didn't work, she reversed the numbers. She still met with no success she tried several combinations of their death dates next, but still the bar didn't move.

"Damn it." She whispered. A horn bleated behind her. She looked back and the driver urged her to hurry it up. _"Dip shit."_ She thought as she returned her concentration to the enigma of the keypad. She entered the anniversary of his parents' union and to her surprise; the bar slowly rose to allow her passage. "Finally…" She sighed. Janeille drove through and parked her Xterra between Renault's SUV and a bright yellow Corvette.

Janeille climbed out and locked her doors before moving on to the stairwell. On her way up, she felt increasingly uneasy. She didn't feel the familiar buss that all immortals feel when they are in one another's presence. This didn't really mean much; he could have just taken a walk somewhere. The thought did little to comfort her. He would have called if he had needed to cancel on her. It wasn't like him to just take off. The sound of glass crunching underfoot snatched her back to the stairwell from her thoughts. Janeille stared at it blankly for a moment then looked around to find where it had come from. She didn't have far to look. On the left, not even a foot away there was one of those cases with the breakaway glass fronts for emergencies. Of course, the glass was gone.

She knew from previous visits that this particular case had always held a length of hose and a fire axe. The axe! It was missing. Her heart dropped into her belly.

"No… Please, no." She gasped as she put on speed and raced up the last thirty steps to the ruined side entrance of Renault's apartment. The smell of fresh blood assaulted her nose when she got inside the door. Sure that she had a good idea what had happened, her illusion was shattered when she saw the headless body lying before the elevator. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." She chanted as she moved closer, being careful not to step into the coagulating puddle that had gathered around the decapitated corpse that used to be her friend. She dared not touch anything inside the place and decided that it would be a good idea to vacate the premises before anyone saw her here. Choking back the anger that was trying to force its way from her, Janeille quickly exited the scene. Once back in her Xterra, she drove a short distance from the building then she picked up her cell phone and dialed the number of someone the thought could help her figure out what had happened up there.

* * *

Jeremy looked over at the brilliant blue light issuing from his cellular. The caller ID indicated that whoever was calling did not want him to know who they were. This meant one of two things. Either it was another Watcher trying to get a hold of him, or it was Janeille.

He knew that he was in violation of the Watcher Code by letting his immortal know that he existed, even going so far as to give her his cell and pager numbers. If the Tribunal found out, they would reassign him faster than you can _say_ 'reassign' or worse, deactivate him. There was no way that he wanted that. The various immortals of the MacLeod family were the most sought after assignment out there at any given time, though the Tribunal had dubbed them 'troublemakers'. Jeremy sighed as he thought of Connor, Duncan and the most recent editions of the clan, the twins Janeille and Calandra. Immortal twins… now _there_ was a precedent. He thanked his friend and mentor Joe Dawson for his recommendation nearly every chance that he got during his first year as Janeille's Watcher. So much so, that Joe tired of hearing it and threatened bodily harm.

On the third ring, he picked it up and muted the TV program that he was watching before pressing the 'answer' button on the keypad. "Stone here…"

"Jeremy, it's me." Janeille said flatly.

"Yeah, I figured." He said, noticing her mood.

"You wouldn't have spoken to Leonard, would you?"

"Not for a while, why? What's up?" To him, her voice sound strained, as if she were crying, and trying not to let it be heard. This was a little awkward, as he had never known this woman to cry about anything. "What's wrong, Neille?"

"Um, well you should talk to him. I don't think he has any clue."

"Clue about what?"

"Renault is dead."

"What?" Jeremy shot to his feet. "When? Do you know who got him?"

He heard her take a few breaths as she did when she was trying to keep herself in check. "No, I'm still trying to get myself together enough to deal with this. I need a little time." Of course she did. After all, they were close friends.

"When did it happen?" He asked.

"I don't know, I figure it was somewhere between nine-fifteen and nine-thirty."

He looked at his watch. It was now eleven-fifteen…nearly two hours ago then. "How do you know?"

The strained sound came again, stronger this time. "I found him. We were supposed to meet tonight at SF. When he didn't show I went to his place to see what was going on. He normally called when something came up, no matter what it was."

"I see. Yeah, I think you're right. Len needs to know. You don't know of any enemies Pressgrue might have had?"

"Who amongst us doesn't have enemies?" By 'us' she meant immortals.

"I meant any that were an immediate threat."

Janeille's temper flared. "Ren was _shot_, Jeremy! How many immortals do you know use guns?"

"Well I wouldn't rule it out, especially nowadays."

"For centuries immortals have used edge weapons. It's sort of an unspoken rule. And the few that _have_ used guns only used them to immob…" She stopped mid-word. "Oh my god…"

"What?"

"Something that Duncan told me a few years back. About what happened to his friend Darius."

"Darius, the priest immortal yeah, I remember Joe saying something about him too." He remembered something, but he wasn't sure that it was what Janeille was referring to. "What did Duncan tell you?"

"That he was killed by _your_ people; renegade Watchers that called themselves the Hunters." She remarked coldly.

Jeremy didn't respond. He had retreated into his own memory, into past conversations with other Watchers. In his mind, he heard echoes of Joe's voice telling him about the incident with Darius. The Tribunal had concluded that a renegade sect had killed him, just as Janeille had stated. However, the Watchers, Joe himself in fact had eliminated the man behind the attack, James Horton. Did someone take up the 'cause'?

"Jeremy?" Janeille's voice broke through his consultation. "Jeremy, are you okay?"

"Oh, um yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about what you said."

"And…?"

"I'm going to call Len and let him know what's up. Hang tight. I'll call you back." He said thoughtfully.

"Okay, you do that and I'll be trying to find out some more info on this end." She waited for him to hang up the phone.

The 'call ended' message came up on her phone's display screen. The tears started slowly, just one at a time and Janeille wiped them away. Suddenly there was more than one. The cement dam that she had built up in her mind shattered and loosed a torrent of emotion. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs and she was glad that no one was around to see her like this. Why did it have to be Renault? He was a good man. He had never hurt anyone intentionally, immortals aside. Why couldn't they have taken someone else? Someone she did not care about in the least, someone whom she _did not_ know and have a close relationship with. She pounded the steering wheel with her fists harder and harder with every blow. Her hair hung about her face and a few strands stuck to her cheeks in the saltine moisture coming relentlessly from her eyes.

"We have to do something." She said quietly to the dashboard. "This _can not_ go on. Those bastards do _not_ win. If I have to take them on myself, I will see to it that they each suffer as badly as you did Ren." She stopped crying, cleaned up her face, and smoothed her hair back into a ponytail securing it with the hair tie she kept hanging on her turn signal lever. She picked up her phone again and cleared her throat. "Call Cala." She ordered it.

* * *

"Hey Janey!" The voice on the other end was bright and cheerful as usual. "How was the beach?"

"I didn't go to the beach." Janeille answered dryly. Identical twins who were identical only in the physical sense. She could not be more different from the young lady on the phone if they were both born to a separate set of parents.

That wasn't fair. It wasn't Calandra's fault that they had grown up in separate towns, states, and hell let's face it, worlds. Janeille recomposed herself.

That twin telepathy/empathy thing was not just something that they talked about in the movies or in books. Calandra knew that her sister hadn't gone where she said she had before she asked the question. And what was more, she felt the anger that was very much a part of her sister's personality and understood immediately where it came from. "It's Ren. Somebody finally got to him. Damn." Calandra whispered. "I'm sorry Neille."

"Not just somebody Cala, Hunters." The contempt in Janeille's voice as she spoke the last word made the hair on the back of Calandra's neck stand on end.

"Oh no." She knew the story of Darius's death as well. "Hunters, you're sure?" She needn't have asked. She got a flash of the scene through Janeille's eyes and was dismayed nearly as much as her sister. She also got the wild impression that Janeille was going to do something incredibly bullheaded and stupid. She spoke on this last. "Whatever you're thinking of doing Janey, don't. Let the Tribunal handle it. It's their guys, therefore, their problem. If they did Ren out, then they won't have any problem taking you out as well. That's what they live for…" Calandra swallowed. "…To kill us. We're better off just laying low. Why don't we go visit Duncan and Amanda?" She asked, hoping that her sister would take her up on it.

Calandra was trying to remove her from the situation. Didn't she understand? She couldn't leave. She felt that she owed Renault a little reprisal. Janeille was silent as she thought about what to do. On the one hand, going to Duncan presented the opportunity to get advice from someone who had been in this particular situation before, and allowing her some time to prepare for whatever she needed to do. On the other hand, leaving this where it lay bothered her to no end.

"Janey?" Calandra said cautiously. She could feel the heaviness of her sister's mental debate.

Janeille's thoughts dissipated. "Yeah, I'm still here." She sighed deeply. "Okay, let's go see Duncan. Maybe he'll help, or recommend me to someone who can."

Not quite what Calandra had in mind, but it would do for a start. Maybe while they were there, _she_ could convince Duncan to talk Janeille out of the vengeance streak that was dangerously close to being implemented. "'Kay, I'll try to get tickets on the first flight out in the morning; you just go home and try to get some sleep. She hung up.


	3. Chapter 3

Calandra called Duncan and left a message in his voice mail warning him of their coming visit and requesting that he call her back for the details, then made the flight arrangements. After that was done, she called Janeille and let her know that they would be leaving for Seacouver at eight thirty the next morning.

"You _will_ try to get a little sleep right?" Calandra prodded gently, wishing that she could knock her sister out and _make_ her get some rest. "I mean, you'll see a little more clearly and we can think about this whole mess more objectively. You know?" Of course, she knew that Janeille's blood was up and sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Again she hoped that her sister wouldn't go out and do something anger induced and wind up in jail for the night.

"Yeah, I know. I'm on my way home now." Janeille replied hollowly. She wasn't lying, not really anyway. She _was_ on her way home, but she only planned on stopping there to pack. "See you at the airport Cala." She managed to keep an even tone and hung up before Calandra could say another word.

Calandra sighed and rolled her eyes. Janeille could be so rude sometimes. _"And to think, we came from the same egg."_ She thought dolefully. _"Whatever you do Janey, be careful. Please. I kind of like having actual blood relatives."_ She added, hopeful that her sister received the message through the hurt and anger that she was feeling at the moment.

Duncan returned her call as she was getting herself packed.

"Hey kiddo, what do you need?" Her cousin asked.

"Well, it isn't what I need more than it's what Janeille needs."

"I'm not following…what's going on out there?"

"Did you know Janey's friend Renault? If you didn't I guess it won't matter all that much to you that he's dead."

"I think I remember her telling me about a Renault. I thought she was talking about a car… Dead? What happened?"

"Before I tell you, you have to promise me that you won't fly off the handle."

Duncan affirmed he would not and she explained the situation to him as he listened solemnly.

"And she's positive that it was Hunters?" He asked when she had finished.

"Well _Janeille_ is terribly convinced that it is even though she only saw the aftermath. Me, I got a glimpse of the site through her, but I really don't know _what_ to think other than it was pretty gruesome."

"You did the right thing by calling. Where's Janeille now?"

Calandra exhaled heavily, releasing her frustration. "She _said_ that she was heading home to pack for the trip and go to bed, but she only said that to get me off her case. I got the distinct feeling she wanted something from Ren's place. I couldn't tell what it was though, I just hope that she doesn't get caught there."

"Try to get a hold of her and make sure she comes with you. The best thing is that you get out of there, just in case she _is_ right."

"I'll do what I can. No guarantees. Thanks Duncan, see you tomorrow."

"Likewise."

Calandra ended the call and finished her packing. Janeille would show up, she was sure. She wanted Duncan's help.

* * *

Janeille got to her apartment to gather the essentials. Her cat, Tybalt met her at the door and wound himself about her legs purring for attention. "Sorry, Tybal-cat." She whispered as she stooped and scooped him up. He perched on her shoulder nuzzling her head. "But you will have to go to Mrs. Desdin's for a little while. I have some things that I need to do." A noise issued from the Siamese that sounded a bit like an objection, as if he didn't like the idea of Janeille taking off and leaving him with the lady who resided down the hall, and he jumped back to the floor. She chuckled lightly at the perceived protest and entered her bedroom to get her things.

She packed up some clothes and other items into a small suitcase and backpack, and then she was ready to go. Well almost: She grabbed a slim, two and a half foot long, black satin brocaded case from the hall closet and lashed it to her suitcase. The set of swords that normally would have resided in it were presently in her Xterra. She was only taking the case so that she would be permitted to travel with them.

She left Tybalt with Mrs. Desdin, giving the older woman a smile and a hug in thanks for providing care and comfort for her furry accomplice.

Janeille drove back to Renault's loft, taking care to park several blocks away before approaching the building again. The place was swarming with city law enforcement. Bright flashes of blue from the cruisers, yellow from the coroner's vehicle, and red and white from the unneeded ambulance slashed the night, bouncing off the surrounding buildings and people in a macabre light show. The officers were having a time keeping the massive crowd of gawkers and onlookers that had congregated at the scene at bay. Camera crews from the local news stations shot footage while reporters gathered the statements of both the detectives and bogus 'eye-witnesses' who really hadn't seen _anything_, they were just after their fifteen.

"_Damn,"_ Janeille thought. _"I should have gotten his sword when I had the chance."_ Still, she wormed her way through the crowd for a closer look. Someone grabbed her before she could get very far and she stiffened for a split second.

"What the hell are you doing back here? Are you nuts?" A familiar voice hissed into her ear.

She relaxed a bit and glanced behind her into the face of Jeremy. "Looks like it." She spouted in irritation, facing forward again. "I could have hurt you, you know."

"Yeah, whatever. Answer the question."

"None of your damned business, Watcher." She tore away from him and started back in the direction of her vehicle.

"Hey, I'm not the one who did this shit. Don't take it out on me."

She whirled around to face him again. "Maybe not, but you are still part of the thing that made the ones who did."

"Guilt by association, huh? Is that how it's going to be now?" He made a move toward her.

"Better keep your distance before someone sees you. You wouldn't want them to find out your cover's been blown, now would you?" Janeille growled coldly.

"What?" She was being completely unreasonable. Jeremy frowned. "I'm on your side, whether you believe that right now or not. Len and me are working to find out exactly who could have done this. It goes against everything that our organization stands for. You know the spill, 'Observe and Record, Never interfere.'"

"And boy aren't you scoring high in that department. Or have you forgotten that just talking to me is interference?"

"God, you are insufferable right now!" He moved away from her and thrust his hands into his pockets surveying the scene in silent rage. He spied Leonard Harper talking to a blonde haired woman with camera equipment in her hands. Even at the distance you could see the tattoo peeking out from beneath her cuff. Another Watcher. Jeremy stiffened, then relaxed. They didn't appear to have seen him yet. Good. He decided to let Janeille alone for the moment and navigated the crowd to the spot they stood in.

With Jeremy off her back, Janeille stalked down the street a-ways and sat on the hood of an old Honda, watching the police officers herd people off into the night with shouts of, "C'mon! It's all over folks." "There's nothing else to see here." and "Please return to your homes."

She flitted her gaze over Jeremy, Leonard, and the camera chick. She wore a hat bearing the call letters of one of the news crews. Although she hadn't seen the tattoo herself, she figured the woman a Watcher as well. Why else would they be so deep in conversation? Janeille checked her watch. "Geez Ren, you've been gone for four and a half hours." She croaked emotionally. Her vision blurred and the tears fell again, she wiped them away violently as she slid off the Honda. There was no way that she would get back into the building tonight, and she would be leaving in the morning. The thought infuriated her more. In a bold move, she went back to her car and dialed Jeremy's cell.

* * *

"You're ringing, Stone." Leonard said, pointing to the blue glow issuing from the inside of Jeremy's pocket.

Jeremy pulled out his phone and glared at it in puzzlement. Unknown Caller. Janeille. _"She's really gone insane."_ He thought as he answered. "Stone."

"I need you to get something out of Renault's apartment."

"What!" He choked. Leonard and Helen stared at him wearing identical expressions of curiosity. Jeremy held up a finger and walked away from the two of them for a little privacy. "First you bitch me out for no reason, then you want me to do something that could not only get me deactivated but also thrown in jail? Have you forgotten that there is a homicide investigation going on at the moment?" He murmured into the phone, trying to keep his face a blank. Leonard had an eye on him.

"Why not, you guys slink around all the damn time. I'm sure you can think of something to tell the cops. It's really only a little thing…won't even be missed."

Jeremy was stunned. He was also curious. "Bullshit MacLeod, there isn't a such thing as little where you're concerned. What is it that you need out of there so terribly bad? Can't it wait?" He murmured in irritation, stealing a look at Leonard and Helen. They had fallen back into conversation, but kept glancing back at him. He held up a finger again.

Janeille made a sound. "No, It can't."

"What the hell could possibly be so important that you'd want me to risk my skin?"

"His sword."

"His…you know what chick, you really _are_ fucking nuts."

"Why? It isn't like he needs it anymore, and I… I kind of want something to remember him by."

"God woman, don't you have photos like normal people?"

She scoffed. "Like I've ever been normal. Really Jeremy, I'd like to have it. I'd get it myself, only there's the cops and I won't be able to get it later."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Nothing, I just need to get away from here for a while. Let me know when you've got it."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"You're the Watcher, you tell me." She hung up.

Jeremy shook his head and put his phone away.

"Was that Headquarters?" Leonard asked as Jeremy rejoined the group.

"No, just my niece." Jeremy lied. "And since this was your guy, I think that they'd call you instead of me."

"Yeah, man I still can't believe this. Nobody can say who got him. You sure it wasn't your girl?"

"Len, MacLeod and Pressgrue were like this…" He held up crossed fingers. "She had no reason to kill him."

"She's an immortal," Helen whispered. "That's what they do. It's what they _have_ been doing since before we even formed our little organization. It's kind of sick if you ask me."

"Then why did you join up?"

"Are you kidding? I've seen more of the world following these guys around then I ever could have on my own. Besides, surveillance is fun. I get a kick out of this."

Leonard shook his head. "You're one strange chick, Helen."

"Back to the task at hand. Len, you need to talk to headquarters, fill them in if they don't know already and get a new assignment." She fiddled with the equipment in her hands.

"Wait a minute! What for?"

"Well, let me put it to you this way; losing your assignment is hard, especially when you have put so much time and effort into them. Sometimes some of us let the job get too personal, and the assignments became private obsessions. Having it taken away drove them nuts, I just don't want to see that happen to you."

"I'm not like those other guys, this hasn't made me sad…"

"You're angry though, and confused. I see it, and trust me; I've been there. Take my advice Leonard, get a new assignment before you wind up doing something that you may or may not live to regret." She turned away and walked off in the direction of the van bearing the same call letters as her ball cap.

Leonard turned to Jeremy. "What is she talking about? I'm not mad, sad, or confused. I'll get a new assignment when I come to a satisfactory conclusion on how Pressgrue really bought it." He mumbled. "C'mon, we can come back when they're all done here."

Jeremy took a glance over his shoulder at the Honda Janeille had been sitting on. She was nowhere in sight. He wondered what she was up to.

"You know, this whole situation is fishy as hell." Leonard said as he and Jeremy made their way to his car.

"How so?" Jeremy asked as reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

"Well, according to the police, the place was shot up O.K. Corral style."

Jeremy stopped with his lighter halfway to the cigarette hanging from his lips. "Really?" He asked dumbly, feigning ignorance. He would have had some explaining to do if he reacted otherwise. Leonard was an okay guy, but he wasn't sure that he could trust him with the knowledge that he was having a problem with the 'Never Interfere' part of their credo. He finished lighting his cigarette and took a drag, silently hoping that he could get away with nabbing the sword for Janeille.

"Yeah. That's a little more than weird to me. I mean think about it; when have you ever heard, read or even witnessed an immortal battle that involved gunplay?"

"Never. Well, almost never… there was Xavier St. Cloud, but he wasn't acting alone."

"Huh? You've got a little something extra in those cigs or yours, Remy." Len chuckled. "Which Chronicle did you read that in?"

"It wasn't in a Chronicle." Jeremy said. He exhaled a ribbon of smoke into the air.

"Oh come on, if it happened it would be in St. Cloud's Chronicle. I read it myself…it didn't mention anything about guns, only that he was killing off immortals at a surprising success rate even considering the loss of a hand."

"I'm telling you, St. Cloud was NOT working by himself. He may have been good, even with only one hand, but nowhere near good enough to produce the numbers he did." Jeremy leaned against Leonard's blue Taurus. Ash fell from the tip of his cigarette, landing on the thigh of his jeans. He brushed it away unceremoniously.

Leonard squinted suspiciously at the man he regarded as a good friend. The event had been logged as it happened hadn't it? How could he say with certainty what he was inferring? He wanted, no… _needed_ to know. "Remy, I need you to be straight up with me. Was something intentionally left out of the Chronicle? If it was, how do you know? The event happened years before you or I even joined the society."

"_Oh boy, here we go. Me and my big fuckin' mouth."_ Jeremy sighed internally. He bent down and butted out his unfinished cigarette against the asphalt. Out of habit, he tucked it away behind his ear and took another breath. He decided to give Leonard the benefit of the doubt and trust him not to talk. "Listen Len, if I tell you what I know and how I know it, you have to swear on your _life_ you won't say anything to anyone about it. I mean it, _no one_. We aren't supposed to have this information. It's been officially been classified and wiped from St. Cloud's and his victim's Chronicles. We could both get deactivated."

"That serious, huh?" Leonard stated grimly.

"You had better believe it, my friend."

Leonard took a deep breath. _"I may regret my decision tomorrow, but right now I really want to know. Even __**if**__ it means a code of eternal silence."_ He thought. "My lips are sealed." He said solemnly to Jeremy.

"I'm putting a great deal of trust in you here Len."

"I'm serious, Jeremy. Tell me what you know."

"Alright." Jeremy clapped a confidential hand on Leonard's shoulder and clued him in on the early years of his career as a Watcher.

* * *

The airport was not as deserted as Janeille would have liked. Did this many people really fly in the wee hours of the morning? She slid and shuffled her way through the obstacle course of people and luggage, carefully tiptoeing over the sleeping bodies of the few who had opted not to grab hotel rooms for the night. At least check-in was not the nightmare that she had anticipated; Calandra had everything all ready to go. She had even come up with a convincing explanation for their weaponry. Janeille eyed one of the digital displays morosely as she stashed her backpack in a locker. Eight thirty was still a far cry in the distance. Why the hell was time moving so strangely for her? After she had found Ren, it was flying by so quickly, now it had slowed down as if coated with cold molasses.

She walked down the corridor to a bar called The Pit. The neon sign over it depicted caricature of an airplane holding a beer mug and smiling jovially. Several of the bar's patrons glanced her way as she entered. A blonde man in a charcoal colored business suit winked briefly at her and she flashed him a good-natured grin as she sat down at one of the small café style tables that was closest to the entrance. She placed an order with the waiter and laid her head on the table as she waited for it to come back.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, jolting Janeille awake. She hadn't even realized that she had fallen asleep. "I must be more drained than I thought." She mumbled as she pulled it out and looked at the display. It was Jeremy. "Why are you calling me?" She answered rudely.

"Are you ready to tell me where you are going?"

"No. Do you have what I asked you for?"

"No. Not yet. But I'm working on it."

"Then we have nothing to discuss." She hung up and laid it on the table. The waiter had returned with the small coffee she had ordered. Just as she was thanking him, her phone rang again, walking across the table with the force of the vibrations. She caught it before it launched itself onto the floor and answered without looking at the display. "I told you we don't have anything to talk about." She said curtly.

"Could you please stop treating me like this?" Jeremy asked her in a wounded tone. "I told you I'm not your enemy."

"Bye, Jeremy."

"Damn it Mac! Don't hang up on me again!"

She set aside her irritation and stirred sugar into her coffee. "What do you want?"

"I want to know what you are up to. Also, I told Leonard."

Janeille stopped stirring. "Beg pardon." She responded flatly.

"I told Leonard about you and your theory on what happened to Renault."

"Are you out of your flippin mind?" She seethed.

Jeremy interrupted before Janeille could spout the venom that he was expecting to follow. "Don't worry, we can trust him; he wants to get to the bottom of this."

"And afterward? How do you know that he won't turn on you? He may be cooperating thus far, but who knows what he will do in the future."

"I said he's cool. Would you just trust me on this?"

"Why should I? You're on their side." She said coldly. She sipped her coffee and noticed the blonde man watching her again.

"Damn it…" Jeremy began.

"Call you back." She interjected in a hurried whisper and hung up abruptly.


End file.
